The Spark
by vesperian
Summary: Dany is a true dragon, a true Targaryen. No one can deny such a thing; no one can deny the surging flame, not once they have seen the passion. And then there was me, Nerys Targaryen. I am no queen, I am no dragon. The only role I played was sparking the fire, awakening the true dragon. I had gotten burnt by the dragon, and yet I lived on.
1. Chapter I

The Dothraki wedding began much sooner than I had previously anticipated—upon the following morn, when the weary sun had barely managed to lick the sandy terrain with sparse illumination. The warmth, though it offered solace to the skin, proved to be useful for enhancing the fierce ambience, too. The Dothraki caroused keenly, with fervid violence that increased by each passing second, riggish women who seemed just as fierce as their male counterparts, and foreign foods that I had never seen nor tasted before.

Khal Drogo, the Dothraki leader for this _khalasar_ , was known for his pillaging skills and, above all else, his unblemished record his battle, never having been conquered. He was a famed horse lord, one who would give Viserys an army in exchange for a comely bride. Dany, my elder sister, is the said comely bride, for she is one of the only remaining Targaryens and her beauty is claimed to be unmatched far and wide. I am proud, to say the least, to have such siblings: Viserys being a King, and Daenerys becoming a Khaleesi. House Targaryen shall surely rise once more and Viserys shall finally claim the Iron Throne, restoring peace and order to the realm.

And we owe our army to Illyrio, an obese, wealthy merchant, who planned the match between Dany and Khal Drogo. Once Viserys is upon the throne, I am sure Illyrio will be rewarded. Illyrio already has more money that anyone could ever need, so perhaps a lordship or some land would be more beneficial.

"When do I speak with the Khal?" Viserys demanded, suddenly. "We need to begin planning the invasion."

"I do not believe the Khal will understand the concept of battle tactics." I spoke up. "The Dothraki are not known for their intelligence in battle, just for their ferocity and preservance."

"Fret not." Illyrio said. "Khal Drogo has offered more than enough men, and has promised you a crown. You shall have it."

"When?" Viserys and I snapped in unison. The longer we remain here, among the Dothraki hoard, is the longer Westeros has time to prepare for our invasion.

"When the Dothraki omens favour war." Illyrio replied, calmly.

"Dothraki omens, I hear, shall always favour war." I told him, contemptibly. "Only a fool would think otherwise."

Viserys appeared to agree with my statement. "Besides, I piss on Dothraki omens." He announced, like a true monarch. "I've waited seventeen years for my crown."

No one replied to his comment and silence fell upon the three of us. The silence was rapidly killed, however, by an enraged roar emitting from the hoard. It all happened so fast: there was an angry cry, a firm shove, and soon the arakhs, the Dothraki's famed curved weapons, were out and ready. The two men were surprisingly graceful in their movements, much like a dancer would move, I imagined.

The dance ended soon, though, for one man missed a step and his lucky opponent had taken this opportunity to slice open his stomach. Crimson stained the sand and I had believed it to be over, but then the victorious man cut the dark braid from the dead man's head, throwing it beneath the Khal.

Illyrio clapped. "A Dothraki wedding, without at least three deaths, is considered a dull affair." He explained, sensing the confusion of Viserys and I. A grin emerged upon Viserys' porcelain face, but I frowned deeply. The scene was rather vile, barbaric, and, quite frankly, worried me somewhat. Dany would be among these people and I dearly hope they do not treat their _khaleesi_ with the same manners. Back home, things were much simpler. We would remove their heads; quick, easy, and merciful.

An old man walked up to the Khal and Dany, providing a diversion from the bloodied scene before me. He held books in his calloused hands. "A small gift, for the new Khaleesi." He explained. "Songs and histories, from the Seven Kingdoms."

Dany offered him a smile, expressing her sincere gratitude, and asking: "Are you from my country, Ser?"

"I am Ser Jorah Mormont, of Bear Island." He introduced himself. "I served your father for many years. Gods be good, I hope to always serve the rightful King." He turned his attention to Viserys when saying this, earning an approving nod.

Illyrio soon indicated with his hand, standing, prompting Ser Jorah to step down. A heavy box was carried over to Dany by two men—slave men, I think. The two men opened to box and rushed away, obediently. Dany's expression turned from unmatched surprise to pure, untainted awe. Her trembling hand reached down, picking something up; an egg.

"An egg." I whispered in shock. "A dragon egg?"

"Yes." Illyrio confirmed. "Three. The eons may have turned them to stone, but they shall always remain beautiful."

I had wanted more time to observe the eggs, the wondrous eggs, wanted to stoke them, to hold them. Alas, I never got a chance, for Khal Drogo stood and directed his gaze down on Dany, who carefully placed the egg back. She held her silken gown when walking, slowly, through the crowd, following Khal Drogo.

She was greeted by a pretty, silver filly, who was speckled lightly with darker spots and had a slender, proud build. A horse fit for a _khaleesi_ , a silver steed for a silver lady.

Then, Khal Drogo picked Dany up and placed her on the horse. Viserys and I rushed to Dany's side, sensing she was leaving.

"Make him happy." Viserys simply commanded, giving her a warning look. I wondered how Dany was feeling, to mount such a regal horse and yet still remain smaller than Viserys. Though, then again, a king is rather intimidating, especially a true one. Especially the dragon king.

"Try to not cry." I tried to offer her some advice. I hear the Dothraki loathe weakness and I am sure sobbing comes under weakness. Dany said nothing, though nodded, and followed Khal Drogo, who was on his own fiery stallion. I narrowed my eyes, watching Dany disappear among the hazy horizon.

For a second, she appeared to be ablaze, much like a dragon. I suppose the filly will be the closest she will ever get to having a dragon companion; the silver lady and her silver dragon, enduring the golden fire together.


	2. Chapter II

The hoard rode to Vaes Dothrak, the only Dothraki city, the following morn. Viserys had insisted upon travelling with the _khalasar_ in order to make sure Khal Drogo upheld his end of the bargain. Illyrio believed this to be a foolish decision, though said nothing too strongly and returned back to his lavish home.

I had been given a rather serene mare; one with a golden colouring, a paler mane, and a white blaze running down her slender face. I believed her to be more beautiful than Dany's silver steed, for my own mare shone marvellously underneath the sun's beams. I would have named the agreeable mare, but it is not the Dothraki custom to do so, and I believe it is wisest to go along with their beliefs, while I am surrounded by them.

Viserys had received a similar horse, too, one with a reddish-brown colouring and a brown mane. The Dothraki may be cruel but they did indeed have a good sense of their animals. The horses carried their riders for ages now, days, even, and I had yet to see one collapse in exhaustion.

Dany, on the other hand, did look ready to collapse, in both mental fatigue and depression. On the morn, before we departed, her purple orbs were droopy and her once pretty gown was covered in dust and sand. Dany was then forced to wear the traditional clothing of a Dothraki, rather than the tattered rags remaining of her dress. Viserys shall not take too well to such a thing, should he even notice, though I doubt he will be allowed to do anything, for Dany is a _khaleesi_ now.

Viserys may be the King, but here, surrounded by the Dothraki, the only leaders they see are Dany and Khal Drogo. I suspect Khal Drogo is only allowing Viserys and I to accompany them to Vaes Dothrak in respect for his wife—or tolerance for his wife, at least.

From where I sat upon my horse, I could see Ser Jorah converse with Dany, hopefully comforting her. In order for Dany to thrive in the _khalasar_ , she will have to become stronger. Hopefully, being among the Dothraki will allow her to transform into the dragon she is supposed to be. Though, Viserys had make one remark when I spoke this aloud, saying how she is more likely to become a horse than a dragon. I simply nodded, finding it more intelligent to agree with him, rather than argue.

"—the wrong way with _my_ army!" Viserys' loud exclamation soon gathered my attention. He spoke loudly, angrily, and I knew the Dothraki could sense his rage. Rather than being scared, however, the Dothraki around us looked annoyed, ready to permanently shut Viserys up, even if they could not understand his words. Dany was farther ahead, alongside Ser Jorah, so she was unable to hear and unable to be on the receiving end of Viserys' wrath.

"You shall receive the Iron Throne, Viserys." I informed him, trying to soothe his fury. "Either from the Khal or from the Gods. You are the true King, no one shall dare deny it."

"I gave the Khal a wife in exchange for an army!" He continued on, ignoring my consoling. I nodded, sympathetically.

"Yes—" I began, only to be stopped by someone—Ser Jorah, I believe—commanding an order in Dothraki. The hoard stopped within a thin trail, causing Viserys to look around, wildly.

"We've stopped." He breathed. "She—she commanded me, the dragon, to _stop_?"

Viserys violently urged his horse onward, toward Ser Jorah. He ignored the angry Dothraki, pushing through the hoard without a single care. I followed him, though offered apologetics gestures and rode at a much slower pace, though the Dothraki cared little for my apologies and slower pace.

"The hoard has stopped." He announced to Ser Jorah, who replied in a deep tone.

"The Khaleesi has commanded it. And you should take on the ridge, here." He said. Viserys turned a ripe crimson, turning his horse to the foliage. I directed my horse to follow him, and the mare did, gracefully trotting.

He came upon Dany like a sudden storm comes upon a farmer's field. "You dare!" He shrieked. "You dare command me?" He launched himself from his horse and it was then that I began to panic.

"Viserys, please—" I begged him to cease, for there was nothing good to come from this attack, no matter how provoked. My pleading was to no avail and Viserys grabbed Dany by the shoulders, shaking her roughly. I rapidly dismounted from my mare, fearing for both Dany and Viserys.

"Have you forgotten how I am?" He roared. "I am the King! I am the dragon! I do not take orders from some savage's whore!"

Suddenly, a whip cracked, sounding like thunder, and grasped Viserys' throat and yanked him backward. He sprawled in the grass, chocking and surprised.

"Release him!" I demanded, fearing for his life. These savages murdered each other on whims; there is no telling what they may do to Viserys, a clear foreigner, who wore silken clothing, who stood out among them. "Please!" I tried begging.

The Dothraki riders surrounding us laughed, probably sensing I was trying to tell them what to do, sensing that I had begged for his life, that I was _weak_ , in their eyes. I glowered in both fury and fear.

Then, one of the riders, a young one, spoke in Dothraki. Thankfully, one of Dany's handmaidens translated: "Rakharo asks if you would have him dead, Khaleesi."

"No!" Dany said, forcefully, desperately, while Viserys continued to choke.

The Dothraki man spoke again and, once again, the handmaiden translated: "Rakharo say you should take ear, to teach respect." She spat in near contempt for Viserys, earning her a deep glare from me. She is but a measly handmaiden, not some influential woman. I do not even think she is granted a horse to ride upon, instead having to walk the entire distance to Vaes Dothrak.

"Please, do not harm him." Dany said, almost begging, much like I had done before.

There was silence, the only sound coming from Viserys, who was still being choked by the whip. Dany swallowed deeply, before speaking in a calm, almost deadly, voice: "Tell him I do not want my brother harmed."

The handmaiden translated this time, causing the olive-skinned Rakharo to give a confused noise, before releasing Viserys, who desperately gasped for air.

I immediately rushed to his side, offering him aid in standing. He pushed me away, standing on his own, like a King would. He spluttered for a few seconds, before screaming a comprehendible sentence: "Kill these Dothraki dogs!" He commanded to Ser Jorah, who did nothing.

"I am your King!" He tried once more, to no avail. Ser Jorah ignored him.

"Shall we return to the _khalasar_ , Khaleesi?" He asked. Dany offered Viserys a feeble glance and soon mounted her silver filly, with the help of her handmaiden.

I, too, mounted my own horse, awaiting Viserys to do the same. He huffed and picked up his sword, the one that had been thrown to the side when Rakharo had attacked him.

"No." Rakharo spoke up, having procured Viserys' steed. "You—" He indicated to the trail. "—walk."

I blinked, before beginning to dismount. No King should walk when there is a horse available. "Viserys—" I gained his attention, indicating toward my golden mare.

"Ah, ah." Rakharo said, waving the whip in an almost threatening manner. "He walk. _You_ ride."

He did not seem to be leaving, not until I had finally mounted my horse and Viserys had began to walk. Rakharo then indicated to the trail, allowing me to head before him. I suppose this was to make sure I gave Viserys no help.

I remained low and tried to keep my head down, avoiding the dragon's surely furious gaze. I did try, but the Dothraki do not offer any compromises, especially with foreigners they did not like.

And so I rode on, alongside Rakharo and Viserys' horse, leaving the King to walk among the slaves and people too unimportant to be given a horse, despite there being many spare ones.

Rakharo gave a smirk at the sigh of Viserys walking, at the sight of a man who claimed to be the King walking among the slaves. I ignored Viserys' deep gaze, ripping holes into my back. Rakharo noticed this and spoke up, wether the remark was supposed to be toward Viserys or me, or perhaps both, I do not know. All I know is that his words did ring truthful, in some sense:

"Dragon can fly, can they not?" He said, and then laughed at the dragon who walked and did not fly.


	3. Chapter III

It was during the evening, when the golden sun had threatened to disappear beyond the horizon, that the Dothraki set up camp. The Khal and his companions—I am told they are called bloodriders—drank their strange drinks, raced their muscular stallions, and watched their women dance. It was the same every evening, every time the hoard set up camp. Then, always around dawn, the Khal would wake Dany and take her in the dark. I could hear her pained crying, on occasion, when the agony was too much for her to suffer in silence.

But, before the Khal grew tired of the entertainment and the full hoard still roamed in the clearing, Viserys and I would always be in the corner, eating alone. He refused to be among those savage people and I believe the feeling was mutual. They believed Viserys to be weak. I, having no one else, was always beside Viserys. I tried once to sit with Dany, who looked awfully lonely and only ever sat beside Ser Jorah on infrequent occasions, but Viserys had grown offended and claimed I threatened to awaken the dragon by abandoning him.

However, Viserys was not here and nor was Dany. She had given her silver filly to the serving people for grooming and I never saw here again. I did, much to my shame and annoyance, hear mockeries of Viserys and I. They depicted Viserys as a weak coward, a craven King. Everyone, even the slaves, the children, the women, knew of the so-called King. They imitated me in a unrealistically pathetic manner. Some even, I suspected, implied to something else in our relationship, that the pathetic woman and the craven man belong together; what the Targaryen bloodline was famed for.

I tried to ignore them, hoping for Viserys to march into the camp, proud and kingly. He would understand. Dany did not. She was their _khaleesi_ , their Queen. They would never mock her so openly, not like they mock Viserys and I. Thankfully, soon enough, Viserys stumbled into camp, limping and heaving heavily.

I rushed over to him, ignoring the stares. "Viserys!" I greeted him, happy for a familiar face.

"Savages!" He wheezed, almost immediately after he had leaned on a boiling rock for support. "I had better receive my army soon, or else I swear, these savages will pay for awakening the dragon!"

"Yes, brother." I soothed him. "But you shall need to look fierce; you are covered in sand and are exhausted."

I directed him toward some slaves and, although they spoke nothing of a language I knew, they seemed to understand Viserys needed to bathe, to remove the grime. I suspect the fine clothing he wore was ruined, which was a shame. We were both slowly running out of noble clothing and I did not want to wear Dothraki clothing.

I returned to my meal, which I think may have been dog. The Dothraki had a massively wide variety of animals to choose from. I hear there is goat, dog, horse, even duck (which Dany had acquired a taste for). I had never tried anything other than horse and dog, though I think this was more of the Dothraki not liking Viserys and I than actually not having enough for us both.

I took much longer to eat than any other, for the dog's meat was too tough and hard for me to chew correctly. I harmed my teeth during numerous attempts of eating it and was barely given any liquid to wash it down with. I tried to pretend I had no problem, sensing some Dothraki warriors' gazes burning into me, much like when Viserys had been forced to walk. Sometimes, I think the Dothraki wonder how Viserys and I could be related to their _khaleesi_. She is much more agreeable, much less feeble, even if they do not necessarily consider her strong yet.

There was a whispering among the hoard and I turned my attention to the diversion. No more did anyone stare at me. For, instead, they stared at something far more interesting, in their opinion. A naked Dany, who allowed her sleeping silks to fall to the ground, and Khal Drogo, who Dany slowly undressed. I turned my head in embarrassment and slight confusion. Dany had obviously disliked the other attempts Khal Drogo had of mounting her and seemed to oppose such an audience.

I wondered what had changed. Ignoring the pleasured groans, I made my way to my own tent, a small one, and rapidly sealed the flaps. The hoard, the fierce _khalasar_ , was changing Dany. I think she is either developing into a dragon or developing into a horse, like Viserys claimed she would. She is certainly becoming more popular among the Dothraki, taking up their customs, wearing their clothing.

Thankfully, I had no handmaidens, nor did any slaves bother me, so I was allowed to relish in the privacy and the—near—silence. I lied down on the make-shift bed, which was rather uncomfortable, but I did not fall into a peaceful slumber. Instead, I remained awake and quickly grew bored of lying down, so I decided to visit my mare.

I did need to name here, but I could think of no names. Perhaps something in High Valyrian, since I am a Targaryen, descended from Valyrian people. Perhaps _brāedion_ , meaning copper. The mare's colouring may not be copper-coloured, but it is quite similar. A few shades lighter than copper, I believe. She is more golden, though, so _āeksion_ may work.

My pondering on a name was cut short when I finally spied my horse among the others. She was being attended by a female slave and I nearly did not go over, since I did not speak Dothraki and I am sure the slave may not know the Common Tongue. Nevertheless, I went over and simply stroked my horse's mane.

The slave girl gave me a look and spoke. "Look nice." She said, and, although her accent was strong and her Common Tongue was broken, I understood her perfectly.

I did not, however, understand if she was talking about the horse or about me. Thankfully, she spied my confusion, elaborating: "Like silver lady, the _khaleesi_."

I nodded in understanding. I looked like Dany, apparently. Then again, to the Dothraki, the Targaryens must all look the same, for most of us claim silver hair, pale skin, and purple eyes. I was no exception, nor was Dany, or Viserys. "Thank you." I told her, not knowing what else to say. I hoped she understood me, but I did not want to talk to her like she were a child. It would be insulting, I fear.

"You are sister?" The slave girl questioned. "You are Khaleesi sister?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"She has child." The woman said, causing my eyes to widen, though I was not too surprised. Khal Drogo, according to Dany, mounted her every night. There was little chance she would not be with child before she arrived at Vaes Dothrak. Still, Dany pregnant is a strange thing, indeed. I wonder how Viserys will react. Will he consider this child a Targaryen, a dragon, or a Dothraki babe, a horse?

I suddenly remembered the slave girl. "What is your name?" I asked her. I did feel bad about calling her 'slave girl', even if she is a slave. The Dothraki are a cruel people and I do not believe this girl would have done anything to deserve being a slave. She was probably a girl from another _khalasar_ , one Khal Drogo conquered.

"Zhekki." She replied and I nodded, concentrating on the pronunciation.

"Zeh-e-key?" I asked.

Zhekki shook her head, though did not repeat her name. I would have to pronounce her name wrong, then, though I believe she would expect this, since I am a foreigner and do not understand the Dothraki language. And speaking of the Dothraki language, perhaps I could learn. I did like talking to Viserys, but he always either whined over the offensive nature of the Dothraki or planned his invasion of Westeros. I did want him to become King, but I was no battle strategist.

"Viserys." Zhekki said, hesitantly. "He is— _gaezo_?"

I frowned. "Brother?"

Zhekki's olive-skinned face lightened. "Yes. Bru-th-ar."

I nodded in confirmation, understanding why Zhekki may have asked this: the famous Targaryen tradition. "Viserys is my _gaezo_." I tried to repeat her word.

"Khaleesi is _inavva_. Khaleesi child is _janise_ or _siera_." Zhekki explained and I nodded, absorbing the information and relishing in the conversation. It was refreshing, to say the least, to talk with someone other than Viserys. He forbade me from speaking to Dany, for she was a 'whore'.

"Khaleesi is _inavva_." I repeated, earning a nod. Smiling, I continued: "Khaleesi child is _janise_ —"

There was a sudden yell and Zhekki turned her head rapidly. A Dothraki warrior called her over, demanding something in Dothraki. She bowed her head and quickly sped over. I gave my horse once final stroke, before returning to my tent.

I closed my eyes, laying on the make-shift bed, and allowed the sweet, dark abyss to take over. And, while I slept, I dreamt of strong horses, of noble dragons, of kingly slaves, and of captive kings.


	4. Chapter IV

"—I received no food from these people, once I had bathed." Viserys complained, voice filled with fury, one only a dragon could muster up. "I swear to you, dear sister, I will avenge our honour once I have the Iron Throne."

"I am sure, Viserys." I said, trying to remain interested in the conversation. "For you are the dragon and awakening the dragon is a foolish thing, indeed."

He had whined, moaned, and complained during the entire journey. Thankfully, I noticed two massive, bronze stallions ahead and I hear they call this the Horse Gate, though it is no true gate. The stallions' hooves meet together, to form a pointed arch. Personally, I thought it would be rather hard to carve and it was quite a marvellous statue. Viserys, on the other hand, had spied the statue and began to insult it, like he did with everything related to the Dothraki.

"What is it with these people and horses?" He questioned, wildly. "The Great Stallion? This statue?" He exclaimed, bewilderedly.

"They are horse lords, Viserys." I said, for it was the only thing I could truly say. I wondered of their nature, too, but I would not dare insult them to their face. They will surely cut my ear off, to teach me respect, just as they had hoped to do to Viserys. Although, I hear they cannot shed blood in Vaes Dothrak, their sacred city, and I fear Viserys shall do something foolish because of this.

"They probably mount their horses, too, in more ways than one." He spat and I looked around, praying no one could speak the Common Tongue. Thankfully, no one appeared overly offended, though I know they did loathe Viserys deeply. They seemed to glower whenever he opened his mouth, wether he was going to talk, drink, eat, or simply breathe. Dany was further ahead, much further, nearly breaching the Horse Gate, so she did not hear. It was only me who heard—and understood—the dragon's wrath.

"The Khal certainly mounts Dany." I said, trying to add in an subtle, slight insult to perhaps appease Viserys. "She is pregnant, I hear."

Viserys froze for a moment, before releasing a wild laugh. "Horse lord slut, is she? With a Dothraki child, with a savage babe?" He questioned. "She is really becoming quite comfortable here, is she not?"

I nodded, unable to deny that. Dany did indeed grow under the Khal's influence, becoming almost defiant toward Viserys. She's apparently recognising that she is the one in power here, not Viserys, for she is the _khaleesi_. I did not reply vocally and silence fell between us, to which the surrounding Dothraki were thankful for. We rode and I ignored the pain in my thighs—I had never ridden for this long.

We soon made it to the Horse Gate and, at the sight of it, Viserys released a disinterested scoff. We were one of the last to enter, though, and it was quite hard to manoeuvre through the crowd on horseback, even with my docile horse. We soon gave our steeds to some slave people, one of them being Zhekki, who I offered a smile to. She returned the smile and took my horse, leaving the other slave to take Viserys'.

We soon found some slave people, ones we could give our horses to, so they could be groomed, fed, watered, and sheltered. I dismounted by horse, seeing Zhekki as one of the slaves, and she took my horse with a smile. The other slave, a poor girl, stood beside Viserys, who had yet to dismount his horse. Then, another slave came over, one I think is Dany's handmaiden—or one of them.

She spoke up. "Khaleesi commanded you to sup with her."

I frowned. Dany was ever so kind and I did grow tired of eating horse meat, as did Viserys, but the girl's wording was wrong. It would be taken as a slight. Viserys, like I believed, looked furious. He threw himself from his horse and slapped the handmaiden fiercely. I gave a quiet shriek of surprise, as did the remaining slave girl, and hurried over.

"Viserys, perhaps you should release her—" I began, looking around. Someone may see, he may draw blood. He will be killed, I hear, if he draws blood. I inspected the girl's cheek while she struggled in Viserys' grip. There was no blood, just a horrid crimson mark.

"No!" Viserys refused. "Daenerys is about to awaken the dragon. And dragons eat the like of horse lord sluts, like this one here."

He pulled the poor girl along with him to Dany's tent, refusing to release her hair. I followed them, trying to get Viserys to release the girl without commanding him. It would only make things worse, but if he draws blood . . .

We arrived at Dany's tent, though I fear the girl thought the journey was too long, too far. I would, too, if I were being pulled by my hair. Viserys barged into the tent and shoved the poor handmaiden to the floor. "You send this _whore_ to give me commands?!" He screamed, as did the handmaiden. "I should have sent you back her head!"

Dany looked down at the brunette on the floor, sympathy flooding into her face. The brunette looked up at Dany. "Forgive me, Khaleesi. I did as you asked." She sobbed.

"Hush, now." Dany soothed her, turing to the other handmaiden, the one who translated when Viserys had been choking. "Irri, take Doreah and leave us."

"Yes, Khaleesi." The other handmaiden, Irri, held her fellow Dothraki handmaiden up, escorting her out of the tent. I tried to offer either one of them a reassuring smile, but they kept their heads down.

Dany turned to Viserys. "Why did you hit her?"

"How many times do I have to tell you: you do not command me." Viserys snarled, approaching Dany like a predator approaches their prey.

"I was not commanding you." Dany reassured him. "I only wanted to invite you to supper." She indicated with her hands, causing Viserys to notice something on the table.

"What is this?" He demanded to know, going over to inspect the leathers.

"It is a gift." Dany explained. Viserys snatched up the leather clothing. "I had it made for you."

"Dothraki rags?" He repeated. "Are you going to dress me?"

"Please." Dany begged, fearing for violence. I tried to intervene, as I always had when Viserys and Dany argued—or, rather, whenever Dany accidentally angered Viserys for some small reason and he screamed at her, while she sobbed.

"Brother—" I pleaded. "—she did not intend to slight you."

"Not intended to slight me?" Viserys turned to me, shaking the clothing in his hands. "This stinks of manure!"

He turned rapidly, throwing them at Dany. He then raided the table, throwing at the gifts Dany had offered him to her.

"Stop." Dany tried to command. "Stop it."

He did as she said, though approached her threateningly. "You would turn me into one of them? Next thing, you shall be braiding my hair."

Rather than backing down, as I had done and as Dany usually does, she held her ground. "You've no right for a braid; you have won no victories."

Viserys recoiled in fury. "You do not talk back to me." He snarled, extending his arm and slapping Dany across the face. Dany released a cry and was sent sprawling on the floor, while Viserys dropped down and they both struggled with one another.

Dany's hand inspected the ground around her, before she grasped a bronze medallion belt—

"—you are just some horse lord _slut_ and know you have woken the dragon—"

—and promptly launched it across Viserys' face. I gasped, as did Viserys. Dany quickly stood above him.

"I am a Khaleesi of the Dothraki!" She announced, while Viserys stumbled to his feet, staring at her in surprise. "I am the wife to the Great Khal, and I carry his son inside of me!" Her voice deepened. "The next time you raise a hand to me will be the last time you have hands."

Viserys froze for a few seconds, in pure surprise. His hair was ruffled and there was something red on his face—blood. Dany had drew blood. Surely, the rule still applied to her. Maybe not, but someone may notice. They may find out that Viserys has attacked their _khaleesi_. Viserys will be killed and I may be punished for not stopping it.

I mentally began to panic even further, especially when Viserys grasped my upper arm fiercely and dragged me from the tent. _Someone could see_ , my mind screeched, _he'll be killed_! I rapidly increased my pace, forcing Viserys to walk faster. When we arrived at his tent, I tended to his wound, though it was a small one. Nevertheless, anyone could notice he did not have one originally, and could connect the dots. We are in danger, with this wound showing. I also checked his clothing for any blood.

All the while I was helping, Viserys fumed on how she had truly awoken the dragon this time, that once he gained his crown, he would return here with the entire army of the Seven Kingdoms and would _destroy_ this _khalasar_ , alongside Dany and her child, who would undoubtedly be born by the time he arrives again.

But, the entire time he was talking, only one thought alone remained through my mind: it seems like Dany had awoken the serpent, the false dragon, and Viserys had awoken the true dragon.


End file.
